Till Death Do Us Join
by O0o.DameElektra.o0O
Summary: Instead of her dead lover, Hermione sees the assumed killer of her lover in her dreams, dead himself. A truth is discovered, and Hermione's life goes berserk. So what if you fell in love with the dead and would give "anything" to bring him back? DMHG
1. Communication

**Disclaimer: All that you recognize is not mine.**

**A/N: This is a new fic I have started. It's going to be a weird sort of plot, and I don;t blame you if you don't get the hang of it in the first few instalments. But not to worry; everything will be explained. I personally think it is pretty creative.**

**On with the story. Not gonna be tragic as far as my inner writer tells me. Short chapter, I know, but it's just like a preface so the next ones will definitely be longer.**

Chapter 1: Communication

Hermione Granger, Mistress of Magic, relaxed into her chair as she finished going through the pile of files in front of her. Not that it seemed much work; war casualties had been rounded up long ago, death eaters caught and killed—some given the Dementor's Kiss when necessary—and children of Death Eaters were sent to Rehabilitation. As much as most had had their brains Scourgified of all that darkness, some were still adamant in their pledged loyalty toward the now inexistent Dark Lord.

Hermione sighed. The war had seen the loss of Fred, Lupin, Snape, Tonks...

Ron.

Hermione's jaw tightened. Yet she felt relieved that she herself had administered the Dementor's Kiss of his murderer...saw his soul get sucked in and fragments given back to him, fragments that made the holder wish that death befell him...and then his soul was sucked in again, worse fragments recycled...and the cycle went on until there was no life left in the glorious limp body of the Pureblood Prince.

Draco Malfoy.

While his body was on that cold rooftop, waiting for the Azkaban Guards to pick it up and bury it somewhere, Hermione had taken the opportunity to stab it with a knife transfigured from her hairpin. She watched as she anointed that sinner's body with the frozen waters of vengeance. She watched, and wished that it were alive to scream in pain and beg for mercy as the pain was inflicted upon him. She watched, and wished that his screams were there to fully quench her thirst for vengeance.

He took away her fiancé, her love—her life—and he had paid for it. Maybe not well enough, but he had.

Her eyes remained dry as she looked at a picture of Ron and her stoically. The pain of the loss had transfigured into apathy and before she knew had imprinted itself onto her soul.

Hypothetically, even if a newcomer to her life had said that she bore a broken soul, they would be horribly mistaken. Ghosts of scholars from the past would resurrect and scratch that line with red ink from a quill and write on the margin in bold letters:

She _had _no soul.

Sometimes Hermione tried to differentiate between herself and Malfoy. He always seemed to have a better luck as he died in a short time. In her case, she wanted to die, reconcile with her sweetheart and emancipate her poor soul from the soreness. What was the poor soul's fault anyways?

Just that it ended up in a walking corpse.

She sometimes wondered if there was a rule in the Ministry papers about putting a dead person in charge of the Wizarding World. She assumed not, or else she would long have been disqualified.

Ron. His whispers of sweet nothings that still blew in through Hermione's open window at night with the cold chilly wind. The moonlight reminded her of the way they beamed in each other's company. Running water reminded her of the way he chuckled. Insomnia reminded her of the many times when Ron had fallen asleep beside her in the library as she carried on with her extensive research through the night. Pain reminded her of the way he groaned the next morning, definitely grumpy with the neck pain due to an uncomfortable sleeping posture with his head on the library table. Dreams reminded her of the way she saw him in his dreams every night. Seeing his face in her dream was the only reason she even bothered to sleep, and with the dream over, she would wake up immediately. There was no use sleeping after that. Blood reminded her of the seeping blood right from his heart in the war.

And it was also a faint reminder of an endearing entitlement she was given by Ron's murderer.

Mudblood.

But she didn't let it bother her. She herself had seen Draco Malfoy's blood spill, and it was filthier than scum. Filthier than mud. Filthier than Voldemort.

But never filthier than himself.

Another stoic sigh followed. Harry would be coming over to her house for dinner, and in a sudden urge to see Ron again, she fell asleep.

_A running redhead. _

"_Come catch me Hermione!" he gurgled._

"_I love you 'Mione!"_

"_Wait up, Ron!" She scampered behind him._

_Darkness._

_Wait...what was that?_

_She decided to wake up. Now..._

_Wait...why couldn't she get up?_

_A dark room. A sinister voice booming through the confining walls._

"_Mudblood." Draco Malfoy sneered._

"_What do you want?" Hermione said after a moment of silence, in the same stoic voice._

"_By the fact that you haven't lunged at me to kill me yet, I assume you are delighted to see me," he chuckled his dark, undecipherable laugh. The kind of laugh that had no humour folded between its sound waves._

_Not even evil._

"_I've already done that. Malfoy. You're dead. Dead and pathetic and craving for life when none is present."_

"_We're on the same page. I see. Not for long, though. It's time the page was turned to chapter named Reality," he said, a scholarly look donned over his face._

"_What do you mean, Death Eater?" Hermione spat._

"_I didn't kill Ron Weasley."_

"_What are you even trying to imply in here, Malfoy? Everyone knows the truth. You killed him. And now you're dead. Weasley's dead. Happy? Now go away to your deadworld and never bother me again." Annoyance laced her voice._

"_I didn't kill Weasley, Granger. You did."_

**A/N: Review sweethearts.**


	2. Liquid Tension Experiment

**Disclaimer: All that you recognize is not Rowling's. Chapter name has been inspired by the name of an album by a band called Mnemic.**

**A/N: Hey guys. By the reviews I can deduce that the plot is confusing at most, but as again, I assure you it will **_**not **_**turn out bad (trust me) and everything will be crystal clear to every one of my reader by the end of this story. Constructive criticism is always welcome, but c'mon, a girl **_**can **_**dream of appreciation, can't she?**

**The random bold-italic-underlined lines that you see in between serve as breaks between sections of the chapter. And the italics are dream sequence. Now scroll down and enjoy (and leave a review after that!).**

Chapter 2: Liquid Tension Experiment

"_What do you mean, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, flabbergasted, and thrown a little off guard at the statement as if it had just dropped on earth from midair._

"_I said, you...killed...Weasel," Draco Malfoy said, stretching every gap as if he was teaching a Lumos spell to a First Year._

"_Oh I apologize," Hermione snorted, "I should never have doubted your insanity."_

_Draco Malfoy sneered. "Listen Mudblood, you got me killed for something I did not do. And as much as I do not find life a very cheerful prospect, I refuse to regret the fact I got killed by a Mudblood for all the wrong reasons."_

"_Just shut up Malfoy," Hermione retorted, evidently tired of the meaningless argument._

"_Granger...this is exactly what you did on the battlefield. You avoided reason like it would change the truth, you delusional bitch. I know I'm not one for honesty but seriously, you pretended like you didn't do it. But you did, Granger. You killed your own fiancé, the weasel that you claimed you love fervently, thrashing about like the traitor and the Mudblood that you were."_

"_I DID NOT!" Hermione screamed, shaking her bushy head in the process. "Stop trying to mess with my head."_

"_You will accept it someday, Granger. I pity your blatant ignorance."_

"_What—"_

"_Goodbye, Mudblood," Draco Malfoy raised his hand, dismissing her off mid-sentence. Then, his frowning mouth turned up into a sneer. "Get well soon."_

_As the shadowy remnants of Draco Malfoy dissolved into the darkness along with the burnt walls of that room, Hermione ran...ran as fast as she could to chase him into the nebulous darkness..._

"Ah!" Hermione eyes flew open as she jerked forth from the chair. Trembling fingers searched for water, and when they failed to find it they reached for the summoning bell and rang it repetitively feverishly. She breathed heavily, as if each elongated breath still could not absorb in half the oxygen 

needed for revival. She wiped off the sweat beads from her forehead, and licked her lips that were now deprived of any moisture at all.

Hermione's neck suddenly moved up as she heard a faint knock on the door along with the buzzing sound bumping against the inner walls of her head.

"Come in," she stuttered.

"You asked for me, Ma'am?" Chelsie Woodkin, Hermione's newly employed secretary, chimed in.

"Get me a glass of water, Chelsie," she forced a smile at the slightly nervous employee.

"Right away, Ma'am," Chelsie politely smiled back.

Hatred is not the other side of love; it is the ivy that grows like a parasite on love and feeds on it to grow itself.

Knock knock.

After what seemed like another eternity of Hermione's life gone awry, Hermione had tentatively gulped down the glass of water that had been left on her table, as some of it spilled down the sides of her quivering mouth. Her parched lips gained some moisture, and Hermione tried as best as she could to regain composure.

It was just a dream, she told herself. Just.A.Dream.

Hermione looked up in decelerated motion as there was a knock on her door for the second time that day.

"Come in," she croaked out in a pathetic attempt to sound natural.

"Hey Mione," Harry's emerald eyes glistened at his best friend, then dimmed like a whole neighbourhood drowning in a power cut after a storm as he saw her in such a mess.

"What's wrong, Mione?" Harry asked, taking slow, cautious steps towards her.

"Uh, nothing," Hermione replied, forcing a smile onto her face. It was as hard as trying to mould hardened cement.

"You don't look like it's nothing," Harry said, giving her a sceptical look. His raven hair was combed primly, and Hermione observed that Ginny was definitely doing good to the untidy bloke.

"Oh, it's just these random Ministry cases that keep popping up, that's all."

"I thought the casualties were rounded up, and all the Death Eaters and their families were taken care of."

"Well, not _all, _if you must ask. I mean, it _was _huge figures for war statistics." Hermione hoped with all her heart that her bluff worked.

"Hmm," Harry said, suddenly pursing his lips and going pensive.

"It's Ron's death anniversary tomorrow," he said, breaking the silence that lasted as long as winter in the Arctic.

"Mm-hmm." Now Hermione looked she had been thoroughly unwound. Her lips parted, drawing in whiffs of fresh air to clear out her system, and it looked like a chain smoker whiffing in Benson & Hedges in the most obsessed, addicted fashion.

"I know it is hard for you Hermione..."

"Leave, Harry. Just go."

Harry followed her command and walked away, realizing it was not the best time to make merry conversation. Actually, when _was _a good time to make merry conversation with Hermione?

For a guy who failed Potions like Harry, even he knew the answer.

The answer was never.

As he reached the doorway, he slightly spun on his heels and tilted his head. "Are you gonna be there, Mione?"

"I'll try," Hermione tried to smile faintly, knowing how much it meant to her only remaining friend.

_**What does an ambitious person and unmotivated person have in common?- They have both got the same ultimate goal—Death.**_

That night, Hermione faced a complex decision—whether or not to sleep. The part that answered in affirmative held reason that she would be meeting Ron again. The part that answered in negative feared a certain blond tormentor would be back on his business again. But before she could even take that decision herself, all the exhaustion of the day that had preceded the sundown took over her and she collapsed onto her armchair in the bedroom of her huge mansion, and drifted off to sleep, head lopsided awkwardly against the armrest.

"_Hello Mudblood. We meet again." The familiar sneer spread across his face as the devil's spawn itself turned its disappointly unrepulsive head towards Hermione._

**A/N: I'm really sorry for another short chapter but it just **_**had **_**to end this way! Review!**


	3. Angels Deserve to Die?

**Disclaimer: All that you recognize is not mine.**

**A/N: Yes, I have updated. As you can see, I think I have decided to carry on with small chunks as chapters until further notice. But since I update pretty fast, that shouldn't bother you much.**

**The plot is going to pick up pace from the next chapter or to the max, the one after that. I hope things clarify themselves as I proceed. Chapter name has been inspired from a line in the lyrics of "Chop Suey" by System of a Down. Great song that one is. Go on, read Chapter Three now.**

Chapter 3: Angels Deserve to Die?

"_Malfoy," Hermione acknowledged through gritted teeth._

"_Yes, Granger," Draco let out a low laugh, "as much as you have proved to be holding a spastic brain for the past few days, I must say, for a spastic brain you recognize people all too well."_

"_Seriously Malfoy, if this is your idea of entertainment—bantering like second years, I must say __**you **__haven't grown much. Oh wait—dead people don't grow, do they?" Hermione hissed. Sometimes she surprised herself with her tone, but she assumed that huge blows of grief left too deep of gashes to fill or dredge out to completely exterminate them from their source._

"_Fine then, __**Mudblood**__," now Draco hissed back more forcefully in return, "maybe a better idea of entertainment would be to open your eyes once and for all, you __**blind newborn kitten**__." The last words were pushed forth with cauldrons of venom lubricating them._

"_What are you talking about, Malfoy?" Hermione yelled. "I'm so tired of hearing that same bullshit over and over again! Talk straight if you must." She really did sound exhausted._

"_All right then." Draco drew in a sharp breath. "You really don't remember how Weasel stood in there, in front of Voldemort before you killed him?"_

_Hermione eyes flew open like saucers at the newly provided bit of information and also the fact that Malfoy, former Death Eater, had referred to Voldemort by his name._

"_You don't remember how he cried for his sorry little life as you shot a Killing Curse at the blood traitor? You don't remember how your muddy-fucking-blood drained out of your face as your dear fiance's body collapsed to the ground and rolled in the same mud your blood is made of? You don't—"_

"_SHUT UP MALFOY!" Hermione cried in desperation, tears choking her oesophagus. "Stop, for Merlin's sake, STOP!"_

"_Truth hurts, doesn't it, Granger? And then who do you blame it on? ME. Draco Malfoy. The lamb of all sacrifice...the devil of all sins..."_

"_SHUT UP MALFOY!" By now, Hermione had crashed on her knees to the ground, sobbing and howling in pain for the first time since the war. Seven years. Seven years of unshed tears. Seven years of the corrosive acid of pain that coursed through her body, eroding any substance that came in its way...like limestone. Yes, that was what it was. Happiness was a fucking sedimentary rock like limestone._

_Even Draco Malfoy, who had seen greater pain than this—__**suffered **__greater pain than this, was not entirely sure of the enormity of his own pains today. He stood there against the wall, dumbfounded, and after several minutes let his back slide down the wall and crash next to the agonized woman._

"_Yes! YES! I killed Ron! I loved him goddamnit! I remember how he used to say he would __**never**__ want to die in the hands of a Death Eater or worse, Voldemort! That was what was about to happen! Voldemort was r-right there, wand pointed..." Hermione spaced out into another bout of fresh tears. The gates of Valhalla were opening at her cries, eras of heroes witnessing a hero like themselves cry as the agony of the world fell in shards against her skin and pierced it to let so much blood flow away that it could fill up the space in the world left empty by the agony._

_Hermione's bushy head, now matted to her forehead in tears and sweat, fell sideways against Draco Malfoy's arm. He didn't say anything, just sat there as time stood still in slumberland._

"_Weasel...was...a...fucking...selfish...bastard." He mouthed after a long time._

"_He w-wasn't—ab-bout t-to give his l-life..." Hermione managed to say between sobs and hiccups._

_This infuriated the tranquil Malfoy. "You don't know anything, do you Granger?" he roared. "That bastard was –"_

"_I don't want to hear anything about Ron! You understand? I will __**never**__ believe anything __**you**__—you Death eater—say about __**him**__!"_

_Draco let out a hollow laugh that chilled Hermione to the bones. "You have so much to know, Granger...so much to know..."_

Thud.

Reality fell upon the dreamer with a thud.

The glass of water had not suspended itself in midair and shown mercy to the one in eternal slumber.

Hermione woke up, feeling very weak to the bones. Tears had streamed out of her eyes in her sleep, and she wiped furiously at them. After all, she needed to get ready for Ron's death anniversary. And which killer ever cried and mourned over the death of her prey?

_**There stood the devil. There stood the angel in distance. There it was, love growing on the barren land between them. There they were, shedding their skins and revealing mundane humans.**_

Black.

Black ravens standing on electricity wires in a line, heads drooping in complete silence.

Some cry, others don't. Some mourn, others feign. Some regret, others don't.

And among all this stood a perfect marble gravestone, its content oblivious to the face that so many faces were reacting somehow just because of its absence on the same ground as them.

Hermione Granger stood in the spot beside Harry and Ginny, the redhead silently sobbing into her husband's shoulder.

The husband says nothing; he creates memoirs in his head, not once thinking about the fights they had, not once thinking about how their friendship could have been tampered even if he was alive.

Hermione walked away, the ruffles at the hem of her floor-length black gown rustling noisily against the patches of wild grass. The flower she had dropped on the grave was peeking out of the gazillion others. The priest had finished his sermon long ago, and now Hermione herself was to give a speech on Ron's heroism, being the Mistress of Magic.

She couldn't do it. She _wouldn't _do it.

Her heart told her it was because she was too grief-struck and the loss would come unbridled if she had to talk about it in front of all these people.

But there it was, in her head, a silent voice repeating the words from that afternoon:

"_Weasel...was...a...fucking...selfish...bastard."_

Did she believe it? No she didn't—at least, that is what she told herself.

The ever-practical Hermione Granger believed her heart at that moment. Yet, the ever-practical Hermione Granger's mind was winding clockworks around that little sentence that someone so very unreliable had told her.

Only Merlin knew what caused her to doubt her fiance's purity of heart. Maybe it was because she had lost faith in everything around her.

Even herself.

So why was she suddenly putting even a speck of faith in a liar as Draco Malfoy?

She convinced herself she was going insane. Soon, she would be needing a room in St. Mungo's.

**A/N: Did I tell you how much I love reviews?**

**A/N 2: Chapter 4 will be up by Thursday.**

A little sneak-peek (might not have the exact words in the next chapter):

"_So tell me Granger, why would a do-gooder like you kill her own fiancé?" Malfoy's condemning voice snarled, crucifying Hermione so that she had no other choice but to answer._


	4. Conversation

**Disclaimer: All that you recognize is not mine.**

**A/N: I couldn't be less apologetic for posting the chapter one day later than due.**

**This chapter shows a bit of progress (I hope) and yes, the end of this chapter DOES NOT answer all the questions. So wait for more.**

**REVIEW people! It's highly discouraging with so many hits yet so few reviews!**

Chapter 4: Conversation

Hermione sat in silence at her favourite spot in her favourite cafe in Diagon Alley. She had a hooded cloak on, but she had made sure it was a peach colour, not wanting to scare off people with a black cloak that would give the allusion of a runaway Death Eater. As soon as she had reached the inside of the little shop that was so secluded from all the crowded others, the hot summer afternoon midsummer sun had forced her to take off her cloak.

"Hello ma'am what can I...oh, Granger," Pansy Parkinson, owner of the Parkinson Cafe, said while smiling ruefully when she saw the disturbed look on her face.

"Hi Parkinson," Hermione returned the smile with a thousand times more sorrow than the consolation in the other woman's smile.

"An iced caramel latte, Phoebe," Pansy yelled to one of her employees.

Hermione looked at the woman in front of her. Wearing a short-sleeved dress robe in regal purple, Pansy looked quite a vision, despite the fact that the war had taken everything—including her meanness—from her.

"How was the...never mind," Pansy cut herself off realizing that asking her about her dead fiance's death anniversary was not the best of ideas.

"It was fine," Hermione replied in short, understanding perfectly well what the black-haired witch had wanted to ask.

"Oh," Pansy said, knowing that the conversation would not grow any longer. She turned on her heels to walk away and let the broken person on the chair examine the shards all by herself, when she heard a faint call.

"Pansy...wait."

"Yes?" She asked blankly.

"Could you...could you tell me what you know about Draco Malfoy?" Hermione asked, biting her lower lip and squinting her eyes slightly.

"Why would you ask?" Pansy said, and afterwards pressed her lips together in even thinner slits, relishing in sheer speculations that her mind was suggesting. No, none seems plausible enough.

"Uhh...nothing. If you don't want to answer..."

"For once he was not what he seemed to be," Pansy chuckled in fond remembrance, cutting her off indeed quite rudely.

"Really so?" Hermione raised an eyebrow. She was silently wondering if the next moment would bring about the revelation that Draco Malfoy was not a selfish, arrogant, evil, murderous bastard.

All in all she was wondering if the next moment would bring to a revelation that he was never a Malfoy after all.

"Not all too different...but yeah," Pansy said, much to Hermione's relief. That last thing she needed right now was a drastic paradigm shift.

"He was one of my best friends, that Draco. We had so much fun back in Hogwarts taunting those little midgets..."

"And Mudbloods," Hermione added sadly.

"We regretted doing that. He slowly started forgetting the reason why he even hated Mudbloods in the first place. And following his Dad's orders made him think he had done too much pathetic stuff already. I was, well, not even so rooted against Muggleborns anyway. I just felt like it."

"Ma'am, the latte," Phoebe interrupted Pansy's account in a polite voice.

"Thanks," Pansy threw her a small smile. "Go ahead, take the day off."

"So...where was I?"

"Mudbloods," Hermione reminded her, the pang of sorrow biting every syllable of the word.

"C'mon Granger," Pansy drawled in her still nasal voice, "I'm no longer hanging on to that. And I'm really sorry if it hurt you that much."

_Maybe she is, but Malfoy did not seem to budge from his resolution to keep on calling me by that vile name though..._

"You spaced out," Pansy stated.

"Oh, sorry. Please continue."

"As I was saying, we both went through something like...redemption. We started thinking for ourselves for once. Draco Malfoy, as much as you would _love _to contradict, was a man of deep emotions. Although he barely showed it, he cared sincerely for the ones that he considered his kin, and one thing that surprised me about him was his respect for women. And contrary to popular beliefs he never even had a girlfriend."

To say Hermione was shocked beyond belief would be an understatement.

"I know what you are thinking, Granger..."

"But...but...so many girls..."

"Drake was a virgin, Granger," Pansy snorted. "I can't believe you fell for the rumours! You're supposed to be smart!" Pansy scolded.

"Oh," Hermione flushed in embarrassment.

"He wasn't even that strikingly good-looking. True, when you looked up close...even _I _was quite infatuated with him for some time (it was Pansy's turn to blush) but we quickly reformed that to friendship."

"But how'd you know..."

"I read his diary regularly," Pansy snickered. "I wasn't a Slytherin for no reason."

"Oh." For some reason, Hermione felt as obnoxious as Crabbe. It was almost a foreign feeling.

"That is how I got to know him even better. He would never open up to a single soul, rather write down every bit of intricate detail and throw them away with the most complex of encryption spells. It took me two weeks straight to figure out a way to open the diary!" Pansy laughed, but the sound of her laughter never reached her eyes. Instead, the obsidian orbs were glazed with unshed tears.

"He loved flying. Flying killed all the stress that his father and situations put on him. He loved listening to music, the soft kind that would soothe him. He loved it when someone ran their hands through his hair. But he was so afraid that if his sensitive—_human_--side was discovered someone would break him. That was why he always put up this facade of indifference, and no one gave a shit about verifying that..." Her voice broke.

"Pansy, if you don't want to continue..."

"No Granger, it's time people knew that Draco Malfoy was nothing like his father!"

"He KILLED my fiancé! He's worse than his father!" Hermione yelled in a sudden paroxysm of grief and vindication.

"He DID not! I was there, Granger! I saw it all! You wouldn't believe what he has done for you..."

"What? WHAT? I need to know! I have been hearing confusing words about Malfoy's innocence for so long...but no bloody explanation! I need one!"

"I can't tell you...there are a lot of other people who would not approve of that..."

Hermione was shell-shocked. There were several others who knew about that little truth-0altering secret that _she _didn't know.

She felt even less-informed than Crabbe now.

"I have to go," Hermione said, after taking a million meditative breaths.

"Your latte, Granger," Pansy said, her elbows on the table, and her head lying limply between her arms.

"I don't want it anymore," Hermione snapped. "Thanks anyways." With that, Pansy Parkinson heard the loudest, most ear-splitting doorbang in the history of door-banging.

_**Relax. Vent your frustration out...so that one day your brain has enough space to accommodate the truth.**_

That night, Hermione fell asleep after a long day stashed with frustration and no coffee.

"_Granger." Hermione had almost grown accustomed to that snide, jagged voice._

"_Malfoy."_

"_You seem worn out. What happened, too tired of your own ignorance?" Draco sneered._

"_No," Hermione lied._

"_You're a bad liar Granger," Draco chuckled, "finally, one thing that I beat you at, and that too quite disastrously."_

"_Well, that should prove you have been lying about all the rubbish you have been telling me all these days." Hermione said triumphantly._

"_Now now, Granger," Draco said, a little thrown off by the turning of tables, "that was one truth I have said in my life and I hope to be promoted to the second worst hell for that.'_

"_Draco Malfoy...believes in God!" Hermione snorted._

"_There are many things you don't know about me, Granger," Draco said, his voice somewhat holding depth of thought. Hermione was quickly reminded of her encounter with Pansy._

"_Oh really, Malfoy?" Hermione said, trying to hold herself together._

_Draco raised an eyebrow. "Wow, I'm not lying...again. I surprise even myself! I know you would never believe I am different, would you Granger?" Draco took long steps forward, causing Hermione's back to slam against the wall of that virtual room, his face an inch away from hers. Hermione smelled blood from the long scar that trailed down his cheek to his jaw. As much as she was a little intimidated, her eyes held defiance and bravery._

"_Would you believe, if I told you now, that I have spoken the truth on numerous occasions? Would you believe if I told you that I'm not as bad as you think? Would you believe that I never killed Weasley? Would you believe that I never deserved the brutal death that I suffered? Would you? Would you Granger?" Draco yelled, shaking Hermione by the shoulders._

"_No Malfoy, I wouldn't," Hermione said dejectedly, letting out a sigh. Her feet gave away, and she crashed on to the ground like last time, a pile of patheticalness at Draco Malfoy's feet._

"_You know Granger, you can always ask for forgiveness and get it over with rather than falling at my feet every time," Draco drawled in his haughty voice. He sat beside her, his limbs folded neatly rather than her limply positioned ones._

"_So tell me Granger, why would a do-gooder like you kill her own fiancé?" his condemning voice snarled, crucifying Hermione so that she had no other choice but to answer._

"_He would never appreciate a death in the hands of someone as vile as Voldemort," she whispered._


	5. Metamorphosis of a Clouded Mind

**Disclaimer: All that you recognize-not mine.**

**A/N: This is a waaaay short chapter. I know. And I'm sorry. But the next chapter is bound to have a lot of content (more than usual) so that should cover it up. Besides, I really wanted to update.**

**Enjoy this little fragment!**

Chapter 5: Metamorphosis of a Clouded Brain

_Malfoy looked aghast. "So you __**killed**__ the bloke? Just because you did not think he would be __**happy **__with the concept of his killer being the Dark Lord?"_

_Hermione was still shaken from admitting that little piece of information to Malfoy. "Yes, Malfoy, unlike you most people have this sense of dignity! They just don't care about saving their own asses—"_

"_Cut the psychobabble Granger," Malfoy snapped, "you make Weaselboy sound like a saint."_

"_Well, compared to you he most probably was," Hermione's face was heating up. She barely stood it when someone said anything about Ron._

"_Or maybe not, Granger," Malfoy whispered, sneering dangerously. Hermione shuddered a bit._

"_Scared, Granger? I'll tell you something even scarier today. Maybe you won't be able to sleep properly henceforth."_

"_Wh-what?" Hermione stuttered, droplets of sweat forming on her forehead, matting her bushy bangs to her forehead._

"_Weasley was going over to the Dark side Granger, when you killed him," Malfoy spoke in hazardous undertones._

"_What the hell?" Hermione yelled out this time. "Do you even __**know**__ what you are talking about?"_

"_In fact I do Granger," Malfoy hissed, positively exasperated at her ignorance._

"_I would remember Malfoy! I was there!" Hermione bawled, almost in the verge of tears. She had been pressurised way too much beyond what she could take at that time._

"_Not if your precious Potter did not Obliviate you!" Malfoy stated blatantly. He did not appear to care at all at the emotional devastation of the other person. He might as well be the same cold, cruel and heartless Malfoy that he was when he was alive; death brought him no reformation._

_Hermione looked at him, face drained of all expression. Small fragments of memories started to tap at sections of her brain. She took little breaths, lips slightly parted. The tears that were teasing till now came in full force, but no noise made. They were like silent screams resonating within the concrete walls._

"_Granger? I need you to do one last thing. I know you won't believe what I just said, so I want you to go back to the Manor, and find a purple-coloured vial in my library. It contains my memory." Malfoy's voice sounded softer now._

_Hermione barely acknowledged._

"_And Granger?"_

_Hermione looked up, brown streaming eyes meeting grey, now slightly softer, ones._

"_I won't bug you anymore."_

Hermione woke up, wrung out of all energy. Her head slightly bobbed to the side as she closed her eyes again. Too tired and broken to stay awake, she fell into a dreamless sleep.

**A/N: Kill me not for this short piece. Next chapter is loaded with some Pensieve action and lots of flashbacks. Plus, confrontation with Harry.**


End file.
